


sea glass

by kiyala



Series: SASO 2016 [13]
Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Drowning imagery, Hemipenes, M/M, Supernatural Elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-27
Updated: 2016-06-27
Packaged: 2018-07-18 13:54:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 888
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7317880
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kiyala/pseuds/kiyala
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There are hands pulling him down, deeper and deeper, and he lets them. He welcomes his fate. He knows this touch, he knows these long fingers, the gentle way they link with his own and drag him down, like an anchor.</p>
            </blockquote>





	sea glass

**Author's Note:**

> written for [this prompt](http://sportsanime.dreamwidth.org/14215.html?thread=5848455#cmt5848455).

Yukio dreams of the darkest depths, of seawater that burns as it fills his lungs.

_Have you been searching for me?_

He doesn't know if his eyes are opened or shut, and he doesn't know if it matters. There are hands that pull him down, deeper and deeper, and he lets them. He welcomes his fate. He knows this touch, he knows these long fingers, the gentle way they link with his own and drag him down, like an anchor.

_I've been waiting for you._

He wakes gasping for breath, drenched with sweat. Beside him, Ryouta sleeps on, lying on his stomach, the morning sun shining across his back. Yukio sighs, reaching out and stroking his fingers across the warm skin.

"Mm?" Ryouta stirs, blinking his eyes open. He gives Yukio a sleepy smile, leaning over to nuzzle against him in greeting. "You okay?"

"Yeah," Yukio replies, kissing Ryouta's forehead. "I'm just…"

 _Remembering_ , Yukio thinks, dragging a hand down his face tiredly. He feels drained.

"You know what you need?" Ryouta asks, his lips warm against Yukio's ear. "A nice, long soak."

With a sigh, Yukio sits up in bed. "Are you coming?"

With a smile, Ryouta reaches out and lets Yukio pull him up.

Their bathtub is bigger than most, by Ryouta's insistence. They can both fit in it comfortably and Ryouta opens the tap, letting the tub fill as they brush their teeth. The mirror fogs up slowly, turning their reflections to clouded approximations of themselves. For a moment, Yukio thinks that Ryouta's skin shines silver. Perhaps just a trick of the light, or the remains of a dream still stubbornly clinging to the back of his mind.

Ryouta's fingers are at Yukio's waistband, tugging his pyjama pants down over his hipbones and down to his knees. Yukio steps out of them, watching as Ryouta slips out of his own boxers and settles into the tub.

Yukio gets into the tub, settling back against Ryouta. He sighs as he relaxes into the hot water, and against the warm body behind his. With a pleased hum, Ryouta trails his hands over Yukio's skin. Yukio knows this touch, trusts it, trusts Ryouta.

"Close your eyes," Ryouta murmurs, his lips warm against the nape of Yukio's neck.

Yukio does, and he's underwater again. The air escapes out of his lungs in countless bubbles and yet he can still breathe. Ryouta is against him, cold and slippery with the feel of scales on skin, but there all the same. Yukio relaxes. He trusts Ryouta. He trusts the sea.

_The sea has a mind of its own. How else does a message in a bottle find a way to its recipient? The sea allows it._

Yukio has cut his fingers on broken bottles, choked on more undelivered messages than he can count. There are entire beaches made of broken glass, polished and rounded and claimed by the sea. There must be beaches made of unsaid words, too. Yukio wonders if he'll find Ryouta's words scattered there, from all the messages that never found their way. He knows that it's never a case of third time lucky, when it comes to Ryouta. Words that start, then stop, then start again.

The seventh time works. Seven has always been Ryouta's number.

_How else does a monster from the sea find its home on the land? The sea allows it._

Ryouta's hands, cold but sure and familiar, work their way down Yukio's abdomen, then lower still. Yukio arches, feeling his breath leave him in another stream of bubbles. He reaches behind him, groping at smooth scales until his fingers find the slit where they part. He slides his fingers further, until he feels the slit expand, until he's met with twin nudging heads, tapered at the tip, thicker in the middle, joined at the end. Yukio wraps his fingers around both of them and strokes.

_Oh, how bold of you, Yukio._

Ryouta is laughing into Yukio's ear, and he sounds delighted. The light of the bathroom is warm when Yukio opens his eyes. He's grinding back against Ryouta, one hand gripping the side of the tub.

"Yukio." Ryouta's breath is warm, his mouth warmer. He sucks on Yukio's earlobe, taking it between his teeth and tugging. With a low moan, Yukio grinds back again, listens to Ryouta's laughter turn into a low moan, listens to the splash of water overflowing onto the bathroom floor.

"Please," Yukio gasps, trying not to thrust into the hand stroking him. He can't breathe. He's drowning in Ryouta, trembling like he's about to burst. He's powerless under Ryouta's hands, and he always has been. He lets them take him apart, until he's lying back with his head resting on Ryouta's shoulder, lungs burning as he remembers how to breathe. He turns his face into the curve of Ryouta's neck and in a rush of breath, he says, "Stay here."

"Of course," Ryouta murmurs, pressing countless kisses into Yukio's hair. "I'm right here."

For the briefest moment, the tub feels too full, the space between their tangled legs taken up by a tail that stretches on indefinitely, until it's lost somewhere in the darkness. Then, it's nothing but the steadily cooling water of the bath and their bodies against each other.

 _Home_ , Yukio thinks. It's a pleasant place to be.


End file.
